


By The Fire Light

by impalaloompa



Series: Witcher Tumblr prompts and shorts [13]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, feelings for a particular bard, just very very soft, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26444131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalaloompa/pseuds/impalaloompa
Summary: Geralt was numb to the blood and carnage. Jaskier was not.
Series: Witcher Tumblr prompts and shorts [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857856
Comments: 13
Kudos: 69





	By The Fire Light

**Author's Note:**

> comments and feedback water my crops ;)

A pang of guilt throbbed through Geralt as he glanced at the bard curled up on his side, blanket drawn up to his chin, staring blankly at the dancing flames of their campfire.

The fight with the ekimara had been rough, and not only had Jaskier been forced to watch the near death of the Witcher, but he had also witnessed the massacre of a dozen villagers, including children, as he tried to help them to safety. 

Jaskier wasn’t built for this kind of life on the Path. There was a reason Geralt insisted on leaving him behind when he went on a hunt. Jaskier was bright and soft and loving and beautiful. Geralt didn’t want the harsh and cruel world to take that away from him. He had to admit though, that the young man coped way better with a lot of the horrors and hardships Witchers face than he thought he would. It was just unfortunate that they’d stumbled upon that village in the middle of a vampire attack. Geralt was numb to the blood and carnage. Jaskier was not.

A shaky breath escaped the bard and Geralt laid down the sword he was whetting to scoot closer to him. His thigh barely brushing the top of Jaskier’s head, he placed a tentative hand on the bard’s shoulder. 

Jaskier stiffened under the touch.

“I’m fine Geralt,” he grit out through clenched teeth, “I...I’ll be fine.”

“Hm,” Geralt rumbled, gazing down at him.

When Jaskier didn’t untense under the subtle circles Geralt was rubbing into his shoulder, the Witcher sighed. An ache of emotion he couldn’t quite place stabbing his heart.

“Come here,” he grunted.

“What-?” before Jaskier could finish, Geralt had tucked his arms around him and pulled him into his lap, the blanket trailing with him. 

Jaskier went rigid. His clear confusion and surprise radiating off him in waves. But cocooned in Geralt’s warmth and strong arms, he gave in to the startling display of affection and rested his head against Geralt’s shoulder. The Witcher hummed in satisfaction and shuffled slightly until he was settled against his pack. 

He felt Jaskier’s fingers curl into his shirt and he cradled the bard gently against his chest. 

“It gets easier,” Geralt said softly, voice tainted with regret.

“It shouldn’t,” Jaskier mumbled into his neck.

“I…I’m sorry Jaskier,” Geralt bit his lower lip.

They sat together for a while. Still and quiet in the light of the flickering fire. As weariness started to pull at him, Geralt rested his cheek on top of Jaskier’s head. 

He’d been travelling with Jaskier for years now, but he had never let himself get this close. The odd friendly pat on the back. The odd reassuring brush of shoulders. But never like this. Their bodies flush together. The solid weight of Jaskier in his arms. The tickle of his soft breath against his neck. It felt good. It felt nice. It felt comfortable and safe and the hairs on his arms, on the nape of his neck stood on end at the revelation. 

It took him a moment to realise that Jaskier was sleeping. The steady huff of his breath and the slow dull thud of his heart.

Very softly, he brushed a lock of Jaskier’s dark hair behind his ear, drinking in how peaceful and ethereal Jaskier looked. A new, unfamiliar emotion choked him. Jaskier felt safe enough in his arms to fall asleep. The trust and intimacy of the moment overwhelming him in ways he could never have imagined. He tightened his hold, ever so gently, never wanting to let the bard go ever again. Wanting to protect him from the monsters and the horrors they brought. Wanting to see him smiling and happy and joyful in everything he did. Wanting to keep him close and cared for and wanting for nothing. 

Geralt buried his nose in Jaskier’s hair, breathing him in. The sour scent of fear and panic and hurt from before. Faded, like a bad dream. The familiar floral scent from the soap Jaskier liked to use, mixing with the earthiness and woodsmoke that was quintessentially Jaskier. A scent he could pick out anywhere. 

He found himself wondering what he smelled like to the bard but decided that was probably not an appropriate conversation to be having with him. Yet. He thrilled at the idea of maybe one day it could be. To be on the receiving end of Jaskier’s masterful flirting, the coy smiles and shy kisses. The placed hands that sent respective partners’ heartbeats thundering. The unconditional love for everyone he seemed to meet. Geralt was in no two minds about the fact that Jaskier cared for him deeply. Geralt had taken long enough to warm to the idea of them as friends but to hope for something more? Well.

He shifted slightly to that he could look at Jaskier’s face again. Maybe after tonight, who knows?

Careful not to disturb Jaskier, he rested his head back against his pack and let the soft noises of the sleeping bard wash over him. 

Come the morning, he would know for sure how Jaskier really felt about this attempt to comfort him. But for now… well for now he was content, holding his sleeping bard close and giving into the darkness.


End file.
